Tuesday February 15, 1977

Awful day at work. I'm sick to death of having to do Monday's work on a Tuesday. What they do when I have a day off I just do not know.  Sarah looks ghastly. She's had all her hair cut off and the reason why she and Delia didn't arrive to see me on Friday was because she went hysterical in the hairdressers.

Salad for tea which I detest. Susan and I go through the ritual of moaning about sodden lettuce and boring accessories.

Martyn: women drop at his feet.

Martyn rang at 8 to thank me for the photo of Her Majesty and the Silver Jubilee Lechery Society details. He experienced the delights of Miss Moorhouse on Ilkley Moor on Sunday afternoon and he wined and dined her that night. He's having a drink with her tonight in the Hare and I'm tempted to join them for a small sup. But glancing at my financial situation I decide to remain imprisoned here at Pine Tops. I could be jealous of Martyn, you know. His sex life is amazing and women drop at his feet wherever he goes. Denise thinks he's the sexiest lad she's laid eyes on in ages.

Mum and Dad go to the Commercial and I beg Sue & Pete to join me in fish and chips which they do at 10.30 when Pete drives me down to the (fish and chip) shop. I blame that ruddy salad for the pangs of starvation. No good for a growing lad.

Anthony Crosland is still deteriorating and is unconscious after his heart attack. I don't give him much longer to live. However, he could be like another General Franco and deteriorate for two or three months. Poor sod. Somehow I think he might have eventually had a bash at No 10, Downing Street. Will Healey now move to the Foreign Office?

-==-

Friday November 21, 1975

Uneventful day and night. We stayed in the Hare and Hounds until closing time and then I got a bus home with Susan and Peter.

Carole was feeling a bit off it, and because we had no transport we could see no point in her coming back to our place. We cannot really go on using Dave like a taxi - he may well catch on.

I rang Rhodeses Coaches this lunchtime and booked a vehicle for Nov 29th. So it's Brummels here we come on Saturday night. I shall have to contact David about the trip. He only misses them when he finds it impossible to get home, and I know how much he'd love to go. My main worry is that we won't be able to raise the £25 necessary. However, Brummels should be able to entice some of the more discerning members of the happy breed.

Juan Carlos joined the ranksof European monarchs yesterday. Old General Franco decided to call it a day after what seems like months of hanging on. Spain will probably fall into a pit of chaos and anarchy now - like Portugal - and I can't see Juan Carlos reigning for very long. One thing's for certain, he doesn't have the worry and strain of planning a Silver Jubilee like our poor, over-worked Sovereign. The London Transport people are even considering letting loose a batch of silver painted buses in 1977 to celebrate Her Majesty's 25 years on the throne! The Queen herself wants none of it, if you ask me. I'll bet you a pound to a penny that devious little Uncle Harold is going to use it to some political advantage - that's if he's still in No 10, Downing Street in 2 years time.

--==--

Sunday November 16, 1975

25th after Trinity. A cold, bleak day. I normally go to Maria's when Carole is in residence therein, but because of the dog I decide to scrap this tradition once and for all.

I woke up at 9.30. My throat feeling terrible. I gargle with salt and water and then inhale salt water up my nose - a painful experience. At 10 I go for a short walk around Greenfield Avenue in the drizzle which helps my head clear slightly. Back home I glance at the Sunday papers and drink tea.

This Franco business drags on and on. Spain is now wondering whether to unplug his kidney, brain and heart machines. He could go on for years in the present state and it's not doing the Spanish government much good.

Mum and Dad went off for the afternoon at 12, and John did his usual disappearing act in the direction of Maria's. Sue and I made lunch and Carole came round at 2.30 for hers. Sue and Lynn say they like her hair, and I think she is now coming round to liking it herself. Dave brings a pile of 'Paddington Bear' books round for Carole to look at. They're written for 10 year-olds, but Carole is just getting into them.
We sit watching television all afternoon with Sue & Peter and then move onto the radio at 6pm to listen to the top 20.

Mum and Dad come back at 7pm. I thought they'd be out all evening, but they want to watch the Royal Variety Performance. Carole and I want to watch it too, and so the two of us venture to her place in order that she can tell the Dowager Mrs Phillips that she's staying at Maria's another night. I do not like her father one bit. He's almost maniacal the way he carries on. He told his only daughter that her new hair style made her 'look like an inmate of Menston Hospital' and went on to say, over swigs of tea, that she'd lost her femininity. Most cruel of him, I thought, and we are glad to get away from her place. She was upset by the things Mr Phillips had said.

We had one drink in the Hare and then came home. Dave and Lynn had bought a supply of apricot wine in and all the family (other than John & Maria of course) sat down to watch the Royal Variety Performance. A bloody awful show it was too. The only good bits were the beginning and the end when we had a view of the Queen. She looked bored to death, but very attractive in an orange evening dress. Just how she puts up with it year after year I do not know. She really should award herself the Victoria Cross for sitting through that painful pantomime year in, year out.

-==-

Thursday November 6, 1975

A bright cold morning. Up at 7.40 and don't have time for breakfast.

I think it is something of a coincidence that Inverary Castle, Scottish home of the Duke of Argyll, is raised to the ground by a mysterious fire on Bonfire Night, the very day before Margaret Duchess of Argyll publishes her memoirs. Old Margaret has little or no affection for her step-son, the duke, and it's a known fact that she would do anything for publicity. I will discuss this affair when more details come in.

Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Franco is being kept alive on a kidney machine? Well, he is. Juan Carlos is the one I feel sorry for. If he isn't a patient man I can't see him being happy at the present time.

Thank God it's pay day. I will have to watch how I spend it this week because I think that Carole's birthday present had better come out of it. Just what I am going to get her is a revolting problem. My imagination just fizzles out when it comes to birthdays, christmases ande christenings. She says all she would like is a solitary red rose, but I must think of something more substantial.

The traffic in Leeds at 4.30 today was like Los Angeles in the rush hour. The bus completely ignored me, and I walked all the way across town to the bus station. It was nearly 6pm when I staggered in for tea.

Mum and Dad are in stitches about Mr Monkman, who came round today to try and solve the 'BUDGIES FOR SALE' sign mystery. Evidently a car did stop on Sunday morning and a chap did enquire about blue breeders! His main reason for coming round, however, was to ask Papa to witness his will. No doubt the whole of the Monkman estate will pass to his beloved son, Tony.

Carole rings me at 8 and we talk for ten minutes or so. Seeing her tomorrow evening. Mum and Dad go to Pudsey to see the Gadsbys. John and I watch a clapped out film starring Michael Redgrave. It's quite good really - just old.

I go for my bath at 11.30.

-==-

Tuesday November 4, 1975

Out of bed quite late, and just manage to get my lift to work with Jim. Work is uneventful and I manage to get finished for about 1 o'clock. All the girls are becoming bitchy of late, and Carol J seems to be the main object of attack. Sarah is commander-in-chief of the victorious force, and her sharp tongue gives her side the moral boost it requires to succeed. (Don't I talk a load of rubbish?)

Home at 5.15 to get a letter from dear Carole. She apologises for appearing to be too possessive and says I can talk to CB for as long as I wish and she won't mind. Good of her. Bless her. She'd do anything to make me happy.________.

I have decided to stop visiting the Hare like I am doing at present. If Carole and I are going to get along happily we are going to have to have more time on our own. And strangely enough, I am happier when I am alone with her than when we are both in a crowd. It must be love, because I have never been one to desert the happy family.
June and I were always alone, but she was wary of other human beings. Anyhow, I'm sick of doing the same old things. It should be fun exploring new pubs and the un-navigated regions of deepest Yorkshire, with no one but my best girl by my side. Like Stanley, Livingstone and Edmund Hillary, I may go down in history books as the first man to conquer the Chevin Inn, or maybe the Royalty further up the road.

Carole rang at 7.30,and I spent most of the night sorting all my letters into date order. Saw a play on TV which is excellent for a change, and saw the news about eight times.

Don't think for one moment that I'm going to mention Franco because I aren't.

-==-

Monday November 3, 1975

Lynn woke me at 7am to remind me it was time for work but I tell her I'm having a morning in bed to rid myself of this blasted chill or whatever it is. John isn't in, and his bed hasn't been slept in. Mum comes in at 8am on the rampage saying that she hasn't slept a wink all night worrying over John's whereabouts. Just as she's wailing and raising her eyes to the heavens John comes in and I hear him telling Lynn something about Maria's grandfather. He comes up and says that the old man was taken ill at about midnight, and he stayed with Maria whilst the so-called emergency doctor came, some two hours later. John played holy war about the doctor, a foul smelling ____. The poor old man could have died, and he was rushed to hospital by ambulance at 4am. The whole house stank of curry after the doctor had left, which made them feel quite ill. The health service is collapsing.

I kicked about the bedroom until about 10.30 and then plunged into a hot bath, which did some good to clear my head.

Looking in at the television at 12.30 I saw the Queen turning on our supplies of North Sea oil at Dyce in Scotland. The programme lasted 30 minutes or so, and probably symbolises the climb of Gt Britain to a great economy once more. The Queen was accompanied by the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Andrew and the Prime Minister. It is obvious that the Queen and duke are fond of old Harold, and HM sat with an expression of loving affection across her face whilst the old boy made a little speech about our oil supplies.

Carole rang before lunch and said Mr & Mrs Macdonald had now returned home and learned about Grandad's illness. She also said that I'd be getting a large letter in the post tomorrow. I think she's a bit upset about 'The Braithwaite Affair'.

Watch TV this evening, but nothing of real importance is on. Need I say that General Franco is still hanging on to life with all the strength he can muster? Juan Carlos took over as head of state the other day, but no doubt he's wishing that the crown can be safely upon his head before the peasants become restless. Goodnight.

-==-

Tuesday October 28, 1975

Lynn wakes me from my slumbers at 7am. The day is a beautiful one. It is in Guiseley anyway, but things soon change when travelling to work with Jim. Passing through Horsforth we become shrouded in fog, which grows steadily more dense as we go into Leeds. The temperature falls too, and one would think Guiseley is on the French Riviera or somewhere equally tropical. (Yes, I am aware that France isn't tropical, but my description isn't meant to be taken literally).

At 4.30 I failed to get a bus home and so I walked to the West Yorkshire bus station and got the 5 o'clock 33. At Guiseley I find myself walking up home in the dark for the first time this year. I do not object to coming home in darkness, but I detest have to eat breakfast and contemplate a days work when the moon is shining and it's black as Hell at 7am.

Over tea Mum and Dad tell me about the Craven Heifer. They thought it was a bit scruffy upstairs______.They did like it though, and are optimistic about the bank financing them with the necessary cash. If they do get it we won't be moving in until February next year, so we shall have yet another Christmas at good old Pine Tops. All this waiting around and speculating about the future isn't doing me any good. I'll be a nervous wreck before I'm 21.

I rang Carole at a Menston phone box at 6.30 and we chatted for ten minutes or so. She didn't have much to say other than the fact she's bought four packs of potato crisps to eat whilst she watches a James Bond film on TV tonight.

John and Maria arrived home safely this afternoon, but as yet I haven't seen either of them. After having a coffee with Mum and Dad they went to her place where they remain unrtil this very minute. I'll report on how things went in Shrewsbury tomorrow.

Items of news: I'm saying nothing about General Franco or Juan Carlos. That matter will drag on for years yet. And the Prince of Wales's car accident in Norfolk did not injure anyone seriously, you'll be pleased to hear. HRH seems prone to road accidents.


-==-

Monday October 27, 1975

I didn't feel like work today and was glad to get away at 4.30. The news is so monstrous lately. This Dr Herrema kidnapping has been going on for about a month; Franco doesn't know whether he's coming or going, &c.

I rang Mum this afternoon to see how they got on with the bank re the loan and she seemed optimistic. The bank manager was reported to have a wide grin on his face when Dad asked for the money and he's told them to get as much information as possible when they view the Craven Heifer tomorrow afternoon. I do so much hope that we get it this time.

Christine B rang this afternoon and asked me to go see 'The Four Musketeers' with her at Yeadon. I declined because I've already made arrangements to see Carole. She (Carole) rang twice, at 5.25 and at 7.30. She says Mr & Mrs P are still uncommunicative with her and she sounds miserable. I'll have to ring her at work tomorrow afternoon because she is always ringing me to say sweet things.

Mum and Dad go to the Craven Heifer at 8.30 and I stay at home with Sue and Peter watching the television. They come home at 11pm and agree with me that it's a great place.

-==-

Friday October 24, 1975

Busy day at the office. Pictures of the one-year old Earl of Ulster, son of the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, are in most of the papers. The likeness between the earl and his father is striking indeed, though I wouldn't say he is a particularly good looking child.

On the subject of the peerage I must say something about Chris Monckton. Chris Dawson was in the office today and he tried to get Sarah to 'take him (Monckton) out' - Chris M must really fancy Sarah because Dawson never seems to be able to let it drop. Sarah says she couldn't possibly date a future viscount whilst the Prince of Wales is still unattached! A clever girl is our Sarah, but I think she should settle for Monckton. I believe in the old saying about 'a bird in the hand', &c.

News: General Franco is getting worse, but this time I'll keep my mouth shut on the subject of Juan Carlos and whether he'll be King of Spain tomorrow. Franco could linger for years and years.

Tonight I go down to Carole's and we make our trip across to the Hare & Hounds. Stand with Sue and Pete for most of the night, and are joined by Alison and Martyn. It's a quiet night really and nothing sensational happens (other than Carole of course, who is always sensational). At 11 Carole, Sue, Pete, CD and I go up to Harry Ramsden's for supper. The other three leave for home on foot shortly afterwards while Carole and I play around in the leaves for nearly two hours. The night is warm and we have a great laugh, and more and more I am realising that Carole means a lot to me. I know I've said it all before about other girls, but I am sure that I am in love.

I walk home in the beautiful night air, and on my arrival home sit with Mum, Lynn and Dave until 3.30. We argued about official nicknames and Dave didn't believe me when I said that Harry was often used as a nickname for Henry.

-==-

Thursday October 23, 1975

Beautiful autumn day. I wandered through town this afternoon in my shirt sleeves and didn't feel a bit uncomfortable.

Basil, our esteemed postman, is becoming ratty and upset by Christine B's references to him on the rear of the letters she writes to me. I should never have revealed the forename of Mr Postman, and I suppose CB will have to be told about his latest complaint. I don't want the Post Office taking action. On the subject of the Post Office, I should say something about them and their relationship with Yorkshire Post Newspapers Ltd. Denis Lehane was a YP leader writer until last week, when he foolishly published a piece on the PO saying they had destroyed thousands of Christmas cards and other Christmas mail two or three years ago because they couldn't cope with the amount of yuletide post. They have done nothing of the kind. Italy may well have done something similar, but what they do with glittery Santa Clauses in Rome is hardly the fault of Sir William Rylands. (Sir Gordon) Linacre sacked Lehane on the spot, and so poor Tom Greenwell is now completely alone.

A bomb exploded this morning under a car belonging to Hugh Fraser, the Tory MP. It exploded nea the Fraser home, where Caroline Kennedy, Jackie Onassis's daughter, is living temporarily. I cannot help thinking that Lady Antonia has something to do with it._________. But to be serious, the bomb killed a neighbour of Fraser's who was a leading cancer research professor. The day that capital punishment is reinstated will be a day of national benefit indeed.

I've just heard on the late news that Prince Juan Carlos is ready to take over from Franco, who is on his death bed. We may have a king of Spain tomorrow.

Carole rang at 5.30 and then at 8.30. She is worried about me not liking her latest letter. Fooilsh maiden. __________.


-==-

Tuesday October 21, 1975

To the office with Jim Rawnsley at 8.30. Items of interest in the news: Crown Prince Fahd of Saudi Arabia arrived at Heathrow yesterday and I was amused to see our beloved Prime Minister grovelling on his hands and knees on the tarmac, in homage to the fat, arabic potentate. The Duke of Gloucester too was in the official welcoming party and I noticed him running after the crown prince in a feeble attempt to make polite chit chat. Little Richard was no match in the race to the VIP lounge and whilst Fahd and the Prime Minister were busily knocking back the duty free vodkas, HRH was fighting his way through the body guards yelling: "I'm Richard of Gloucester. I'm supposed to do the talking!" (No he didn't, I'm just getting carried away).

Nothing much else in the news other than Ireland and I'm not going to dwell on that.

Carole rang me at work and so too did CB, who was going out with Michael Ives until Saturday when she became intoxicated at Mark Naylor's 21st birthday party and left him to his own devices. A little raver she is!

Carole rang again at 8pm and we chatted for ten minutes or so. We are going out tomorrow night and I'm meeting her at 8 o'clock. I always clam up on the phone and can only really talk to Carole when we meet in the flesh.

Heard on the news tonight that General Franco had a heart attack today and is probably on his last legs. He's 82 so I'm not surprised. If I last as long I'll go quite happily.

-==-

Saturday August 23, 1975

Homeward bound. Up with the larks at 7am, and sit about nervously for one and a half hours until the coach comes. John and Chris went down for breakfast, but I couldn't possibly face it. I sat in the empty lounge watching the rain and the waves crashing upon the beach, and the wind howling around the swimming pool and thinking to myself 'Oh God, will the plane make it?' We leave for Palma on the coach at 8.30 and we sit on the back seat along with Gary, Beaky, and Casanova, which is quite a laugh.

On our arrival in rain-soaked Palma we are met by Prince Juan Carlos who says he's sorry that General Franco couldn't come in person to see us off personally, but at 82 years-old he feels too frail to chase about airport forecourts, which is quite understandable really. After the military band send off we're flying at 27,000 feet over Europe at an air speed of 480MPH. We have whisky on the flight, and I feel quite sick over France, but the highlight of the whole thing was landing. Over the Channel John and Chris wanted to go to the bog, and so I pinched Chris's window seat and saw the south of England and London from 30,000 feet up. A tremendous sight. A few people looked queazy, but I managed to keep everything down.

Chris got a coach to King's Cross and John and I were left to find our own way out of Heathrow, which was an aggravating hours chase. After getting a bus to Victoria we find we have four hours to kill in London. Buckingham Palace, No 10, Downing Street, the Houses of Parliament, St James's Park, and God knows how many other places came under our exhausted gaze, and we were so glad to see the coach at 6pm. Four hours and 10 minutes later Mum and Dad met us in Leeds, and 20 minutes after that we were at Pine Tops. Lynn and Dave, Sue and Peter came on the scene minutes later, and we all tucked in to a decent bit of Mama's cooking. After dishing out the bottles (of duty frees) we proceeded to empty a few, and I rolled into bed at 1.30. To quote Casanova: "Well, it's certainly nice to be here." And I think that sums it all up.

-==-

Friday July 19, 1974

Nice day. Meet Denny and Chris in the Generation Bar at 12. Chris goes back to work half an hour later and Denny and I sit drinking until 1.30. Intend to get some clothes for John but whilst passing the Odeon Cinema we notice a Liz Taylor/Michael Caine film and go inside. "Zee and Co". Tremendous film. Finished at about 5.30. Not home till nearly 7. John goes quite insane about my doings in Leeds. "I thought you said you'd finish doing the gloss?" he yelled. Who does he think I am?

General Franco, the Spanish leader handed his powers to the Prince of Spain today due to his illness. I can see we shall have a new King of Spain within the coming week.

With Judith to Wikis after Hare and Hounds. Denny, bless her, refuses to speak to me because of my liaison with 'Miss Screw well'. J and I fall asleep on the sofa and she wakes up in a screaming fit at 5am!!

-==-